


vacancy

by r1ker



Category: Ozark (TV)
Genre: M/M, also a little bit of homophobic language, can't have this ship without some sexuality denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: during you-know-what in 1x05 :~)





	vacancy

Once he closes the door Roy all but falls onto Russ where he’s sprawled on Roy’s bed. The breath leaves Russ with a harsh expression of breath. In their awkward tangle Roy can see right into the man’s eyes, almost through them the way the late afternoon light cuts through dusty curtains and sheared blinds. They aren’t kissing anymore and fleetingly Roy leans in to continue what they’ve started but Russ starts talking before he can go in for the kill. 

“Can’t believe you thought I didn’t want to go fishing with you anymore,” Russ scoffs. Though he sounds annoyed there’s no denying his interest in the way his cock stands at half mast, poking Roy high on his thigh. “Sounded like a fucking child. I wanted to fuck you into the boat, more like it. Wipe that stupid, Proud Mary smile off your face with my hand over your mouth, cock shoved up your ass, elbows holding your knees.”  
Roy gulps. He feels a little like the kid on the ladder poking the beehive with a stick. The buzzing in his ears gets louder when Russ turns him suddenly and pins Roy beneath him, bare hands feeling Roy’s skin under his tank top. Russ lavishes Roy’s neck in the meanwhile as his fingers pinch and dig wherever they can on Roy’s smaller frame. “Any time you left the water you’d know you were mine, my come on your thighs, your neck red from my hands. You’d go back to Chicago wishing full and well you were still in the Ozarks. And wishing someone from the Ozarks was in you.”

He shifts then and the anxiety, the pleasure tug at the veins on the insides of Roy’s arms. Russ kneels over him on his knees, depressing either side of the bed around him with his weight, and pulls out perhaps the biggest cock Roy’s ever had the pleasure of making hard. Its flush and bead of moisture at its tip makes his mouth water to boot, and he could turn the tables and be the dominant one he’s championed himself on being in the past, but he’s too stunned to take the initiative. 

Russ underhand strokes his dick to Roy’s elation, skin around his thighs pebbling with goosebumps. Roy yearns to feel the stretch marks on Russ’s skin beneath his fingertips. There’s a fair deal of touching on Russ’s behalf, mostly to himself so that he’s achingly hard when Roy’s finally divested of his pants and boxers. Both take respite when Russ digs around in the compartments built into the headboard for the lube he knows is there for when Roy can’t get aroused by his presence. 

The condom he tucked into his wallet is still there, thank God, but fuck if he can’t stop his hands from trembling as he tries – and fails – to roll it on himself. Roy works the slick fingers of one hand into himself while helping Russ as much as he can with the other. He hears nervous shuddering, pleasured to hear at first but almost as if Russ has stage fright next. “So fucking beautiful, if only you’d said something earlier,” Roy murmurs with a firm two-finger grip to the base of Russ’s cock. The fits of anxious mumbles subsides into moaning that’s far too delicate for someone of Russ’s style and stature. 

With Russ’s cock in one hand and the margin of his prostate eclipsing the fingertips of the other, Roy has to be swift if he wants to blow his load with Russ inside of him. He pulls surreptitiously and Russ staggers forward with the grace of a drunk, stops with an overwhelmed intake of breath when the tip of his cock brushing the rim of Roy’s hole. Roy himself is nervous enough to hesitate before sinking down onto it part of the way. The smile he feels growing on his face is as smug as it always is when he’s gotten the upper hand but the expression trembles when Russ inches forward a little more, easing precious inches of his cock into Roy. 

The two lie there for a second and excuse the pause as time for the both of them to get used to it, Russ’s cock molten with the heat from Roy’s body, Roy’s spine rigid from feeling so deliciously full. One of Roy’s heels prods cautiously at the small of Russ’s back. “Last time I even considered a redneck with a big dick fucking me it was at a truck stop by my lonesome with a fat, fucking dildo.” Russ groans and that side of him Roy’s come to loathe looks to make its return as he begins pulling out more out of self-denial. Roy doesn’t let him get too far out of reach. 

 

Using the gumption he was saving for later, Roy scoots down proper and practically impales himself on Russ’s cock. Russ’s shout is muffled and wet from behind Roy’s hands over his mouth. “I got the real thing, now show me the real thing.” Roy’s own voice scares him only a little as Russ begins to move his hips, shallow and easy thrusts that annoy Roy rather than satiate him. For a second he remembers the hotel attendant that came up to tell him to pipe down when one jerking off session ended in Roy’s loud groans of completion.

Fuck him. 

“Fuck me,” Roy chants like it’s the two words that’ll fuel Russ to obeying him. In a way it does; Russ pushes his legs up further and starts looking more like he’s laying pipe than engaging in a test fuck. A soft titter of satisfaction leaves Roy as he takes off the dom hat he wasn’t minding to wear. “Think you’re such a fag, you’ve come this way to fuck me like some bashful queen? Fuck me, you asshole!” 

Russ groans and obliges with a motion taking him root to tip in and out of Roy, fast in quick succession, where after a while the latter is all but screaming in pleasure. “Fuck me, you fucking queer, show me you’re not a pussy!” Roy hates that his voice trembles as he gets closer and closer to coming, jerking himself off with a tight, dry hand made bearable by the pre-come drooling from the tip of his own cock. “Fuck me!” The way Russ drills him into the mattress dislodges the headboard from the bed frame, which knocks hard and uneven against the wall. 

Roy doesn’t notice he’s come after the while. He pleads with Russ, “Make me come, force it out of me, you piece of shit,” but the command doesn’t carry much weight when he realizes he’s doing it passively. The feeling is almost separate from his own body, a great burst of pressure here one minute and gone the next, the skin on his belly and chest glistening with white. Russ is equally as clueless with his face buried in the side of Roy’s neck, thrusting awkward and fumbling with the obscured vision. He’s gone back to making that strangled, helplessly pleasured sound Roy heard him making earlier. Soft and subtle at first, sharp and rhythmic as Russ tumbles closer and closer to his orgasm. "Come on, come on, come on." Even as Russ falters with exhaustion Roy can't, won't let up. Both of them are halfway there, the brightness of it making their eyes sting and water but the promise of such relief at the top enough to keep them powering forward.

Just before Russ loses his footing completely he makes eye contact with Roy. Both of them can’t make out the other’s face for how arousal has obscured their vision and their concerns, but the way they go nose to nose as Russ huffs, moans as he comes inside Roy says more than any look could ever say. Roy changes his tune and gentles Russ through the trembles and restless satisfaction of his climax, both of them easing apart and choosing corners of the bed sheet to wipe themselves off with. They sigh once they’ve both lain still for a while. 

“You tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking kill you,” Russ says, an empty threat in comparison to Roy’s perch on his high horse. Not that Roy wouldn’t take immense joy out of giving every intimate detail to the next passersby.   
How Russ’s lips were dry from breathing so hard out of his mouth, the way his right leg shook like a thoroughly-pleased mutt as he came. That smell just under Russ’s earlobe that felt like the last dregs of some high-end cologne sample nicked from one of the kiosks in the St. Louis mall. Dabbed at all the high points of Russ’s body he’d know Roy would lavish first – pulse points at the wrist and neck, column of the throat, what remains across the middle, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. 

Such an elementary way of seduction Roy’s just been subject to, but for some reason, it’s all the more appreciated. He starts thinking of all the ways it could go wrong from here on out and in the split second before he responds to Russ his mind paints a grim scene. What he does take joy in other than smarting off about how Russ needs to work on his pillow talk is mashing the faces of anyone laying a finger on Russ into the asphalt outside the diner. Roy shivers then for a number of reasons, the priority being watching their flesh become haggard with pebbles of gravel and wilted cigarette butts. 

For now he leans over, kisses the smirk off of that very face, relishes the tickle of Russ’s beard against his lips and chin. Once they’ve gotten up long enough to grab dinner and file back into the hotel room just long enough apart to not seem suspicious, Roy doesn’t go to sleep right away. He props his head up on a bent arm and watches Russ settle down and wander into a dream. They soon reconnect in what could be perceived as a spooning of sorts. Roy holds Russ close to his chest, the tip of his nose by the crown of Russ’s scalp. 

It’s there he begins to love with the heart of the foolish and out college freshman he was too long ago. This thing they have has no sign of making it any further than this bed – of that, Roy is damn near positive – but if he can go forth and make it so not another one of the dull-eyed mountain-dwellers he’s come across ever does the both of them wrong again, that’d be better than any medal for heroism in the field.


End file.
